


What About Everything

by Agapostemon



Series: Cardboard Castles [18]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Coming Out, Ficlet Collection, Gen, Keith (Voltron) Has BPD, M/M, Matt Holt has ADHD, Matt Holt has PTSD, Nonbinary Matt Holt, Shiro (Voltron) Has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Sibling Bonding, Slav (Voltron) has OCD, Slav is a good PhD advisor, Star Wars References, Trans Girl Pidge, broganes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-01
Updated: 2017-05-13
Packaged: 2018-10-13 12:03:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 4,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10513389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Agapostemon/pseuds/Agapostemon
Summary: A compilation of bonus mini-fics from the Cardboard Castles universe that were too short or too unpolished to stand alone. Some of these will be gen and others may contain romance. I'll mark that in the notes, along with content warnings and where they fall in the Cardboard Castles timeline.1. We're Those Siblings [Matt & Pidge]2. Keep Bending Me [Shiro/Matt]3. Cardinals [Shiro & Keith]4. Speedy Garbage [Broganes + Matt]5. Walk Under Ladders [Slav & Matt]





	1. We're Those Siblings [Matt & Pidge]

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Trans Day of Visibility! Thought I'd celebrate with a cute, fluffy story about a not-so-visible trans character (Matt is only out to Pidge and eventually Shiro in this AU) in honor of my trans friendos who can't or aren't ready to come out for whatever reason. You're valid, too. <3
> 
> Category: Gen, G-rated  
> Content Warnings: Coming out, gender-talk  
> Timeline: Takes place about three years after [Velocity](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10033823) (almost exactly a year before [If the Sky Comes Falling Down](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9614165/chapters/21720008))
> 
> Characters and Ages:  
> Matt - 24  
> Pidge - 15

“Hey Pidgey,” Matt greets as he strolls into her room uninvited and flops over onto her bed.

“Um, _excuse_ me?” Pidge looks up from her computer to give her brother an incredulous look.

Matt ignores his sister’s glare, “What was that word you used last night?”

“You’re gonna have to be more specific,” Pidge responds, returning her attention to her computer.

“Y’know, about yourself?” Matt says.

“Uh, genius? Hungry? Bored?” Pidge rattles off without looking up.

“No, no… the gender one,” Matt specifies.

“Demigirl?” asks Pidge.

“Yeah, that one!” Matt exclaims, “I have a question.”

“Ask away,” Pidge shrugs.

Matt plays nervously with the hem of his shirt, “Actually, a few questions?”

“Can you just _get it over with_?” Pidge says with an exasperated sigh, finally spinning her chair around to pin a glare on her brother.

Matt flinches, “Sorry. I just… is there a guy version? Like, demiboy?” He knows he could just look it up. Ordinarily he would have done just that. But for some reason, he really needs to hear this from his sister.

“Yeah?” says Pidge, clearly uncertain where her brother is going with this.

Matt rolls onto his stomach and fidgets with his sister’s bedsheets, “So uh… you’re a trans girl who’s also a demigirl, right?”

“…yeah?” Pidge scrunches up her face like she’s not offended yet, but she’s ready to be if it comes to that.

Matt takes a shaky breath, “So, if somebody was a demiboy, would they have to like… be a trans boy first? Or, uh… could like…” he huffs in frustration, then blurts out, “Could someone like me be a demiboy?”

Pidge’s face instantly un-crumples into a half-shocked, half-delighted expression, “Wait. Wait, Matt… do you think _you_ might be trans?”

“I don’t know!” Matt says, a bit frantically, “You didn’t really answer my question. Can I be a demiboy without being trans? Does being a demiboy _make me_ trans?”

Pidge just cackles in delight, “Matt! Matt, what if we’re one of Those Families where _all_ the kids are trans? Matt, this is the best thing ever!”

Matt rolls back over with a burst of nervous laughter, “You’re not answering any of my questions! Who are you and what have you done with my sister? I can always count on Pidge to answer my questions with an entire info dump.”

“Of course you can be a demiboy!” Pidge exclaims, “And it can mean you’re trans if you want it to. A lot of people who identify as demiboy or demigirl consider themselves trans.”

Matt mulls over this for a bit, rubbing his shirt hem furiously between his fingers as he thinks, then announces with a shaky chuckle, “Guess we’re Those Siblings, then.”

“Yesss!” Pidge grins, pushing away from her desk so her chair rolls across the room and bumps against her bed, “I officially have the coolest big—hey, is brother okay?”

“Oh hey, I hadn’t thought of that…” Matt scrunches his nose, then nods, “Yeah, I think brother is fine. I’ll tell you if I change my mind.”

“And the same pronouns?” Pidge asks.

“Yeah, let’s still use those,” Matt nods, “Uh… I don’t think I’m ready to tell anybody else, okay? Can we just keep this between us?”

“Yeah, of course,” Pidge says, reaching out to awkwardly pat her brother’s knee, “You don’t have to come out to anyone you don’t want to.”

Matt smiles up at his sister. After a moment, he manages to stammer, “Hey, uh… remember back when you were little and you’d first come out as trans, we like… did each other’s nails and hair sometimes?”

“Yeah, why?” asks Pidge.

Matt bites his lip, “You wanna… do that now, maybe?”

Pidge grins like she just won the lottery, “How do you feel about green?”

Matt sits up and returns her grin, “Green sounds perfect.”

With that, Pidge scampers off to the bathroom and returns with a messy handful of hair ties and headbands and nail-painting supplies. She holds up her acquisitions for Matt to see and asks, “You in a headband mood or a ponytail mood?”

“Headband!” Matt responds without hesitation

“Headband coming right up,” Pidge says, dumping the supplies on the bed and sitting back down in her desk chair with a green headband in her hands, “How’s this one?”

“Put it on me,” Matt says, ducking his head down so his sister can reach. She complies, arranging his mess of strawberry-blonde bedhead around the headband to the best of her abilities. Once she’s done, he sits back up and looks in the mirror, “Oh man, I look cute as heck!”

Pidge snorts, “So modest.”

“Hey, I call it like I see it,” Matt responds with a shrug, “You want me to do your hair?”

Pidge looks thoughtful, running her fingers through her long hair, “Eh, maybe. Y’know, I’m thinking of getting it cut. Just to see how I like it.”

“You should get it cut like mine,” Matt says with a cheeky grin, “Then we can _really_ be Those Siblings.”

Pidge laughs, “I might.”

“Do it do it do it,” Matt says, pounding his fists on his knees.

Pidge sticks her tongue out at her brother and grabs a bottle of spring green nail polish, “Shut up and let me paint your nails. Fingers, toes or both?”

Matt shuts his mouth and sticks out a foot, plopping it unceremoniously in his sister’s lap, “Toes, please.”

“Get ready for the worst pedicure of your life,” Pidge warns as she shakes the bottle.

“I think pedicures involve more than just nail painting,” Matt points out.

“Whatever,” Pidge shrugs, unscrewing the bottle, “Pedi-something. Get ready for a nail polish disaster. I’m good at a lot of things, and this isn’t one of them.”

“You used to paint my nails when you were like… six,” Matt says, “Pretty sure 15-year-old Pidge is better at nail-painting than 6-year-old Pidge, just as a result of improved fine motor skills. Just sayin’.”

“Only marginally,” she retorts as she begins applying green polish to Matt’s toenails, as well as bits of the surrounding skin. Matt doesn’t care. It feels nice.

“You’re the best sister,” he declares with a fond smile.

“I know,” Pidge responds without looking up.

Matt grabs a pillow and smacks his sister over the head with it, causing her to curse under her breath and smear nail polish across his foot and halfway up his leg. After that, the makeover session quickly devolves into a very messy pillow fight.

Totally worth it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that I write purely for fun and catharsis. My fics are unbeta’d and minimally proofread. They’re not perfect, and that’s okay. If you notice something I could fix or improve, please keep those thoughts to yourself. If I genuinely want critique, I’ll ask a close friend in private. **Surprise critiques are very stressful and discouraging.** Thanks for understanding!


	2. Keep Bending Me [Shiro/Matt]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro is having a bad day and intentionally allows Matt to trigger his PTSD. Matt catches on and is having none of this.
> 
>  _Start bending me, it's never enough_  
>  As I feel all your pieces  
> Start bending me, keep bending me  
> Oh, until I'm completely broken in  
> \--Bent by Matchbox 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a request for the [75 Followers celebration](https://agapostemon.tumblr.com/post/159694241951/75-follower-ficlet-requests) I'm doing over on Tumblr, where people give me a character/relationship and either a song or a 5-7 word prompt. This request was "Shiro and Matt, Bent by Matchbox 20."
> 
> Category: M/M, T-rated  
> Content Warnings: Referenced non-sexual nudity, detailed descriptions of dissociation, bad mental health decisions, brief/nonspecific reference to a traumatic hospital experience  
> Timeline: Takes place roughly half a year after [False Start](http://archiveofourown.org/works/9884657/chapters/22165712)
> 
> Characters and Ages:  
> Shiro - 30  
> Matt - 28

“You wanna take a shower?” Matt’s voice cuts through the fog in Shiro’s brain, “I feel like I haven’t seen you all day.”

“Together?” Shiro asks, looking up from his laptop. Something prickles at the back of his neck at the thought of someone seeing him naked today. Even Matt.

“Yeah,” Matt nods from the office doorway, “If you’re up for it.”

“Sure,” Shiro agrees hazily, disregarding the warning prickle. Dull guilt clenches at his chest for ignoring Matt all day. He owes him this much, at least.

“Okay, cool!” responds Matt with a smile, “C’mon, let’s get our stuff.”

Shiro stands up and ghosts along behind Matt to retrieve a change of clothes from their bedroom. The prickle at the back of his neck returns with a vengeance when he reaches the bathroom and begins to undress in front of Matt. But instead of heeding the warning, he just strips his clothes and prosthetic off faster and marches over to the tub, stepping in and turning the shower on.

A stream of cold water hits him head-on and he can practically feel himself leave his body as the sound and the chill and exposure engulf him. He’s not quite back in the hospital, but he’s not quite here either. He floats in the in-between as the water heats up around him.

“You okay, buddy?” asks Matt, voice filled with concern, “You know where you’re at?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” he forces himself to say. He’s not, of course. But he doesn’t deserve to be. Not after the way he treated Matt, today.

“Okay, if you’re sure,” Matt says, stepping in to join him and adjusting the now-uncomfortably-hot water to something more reasonable. “Want me to wash your hair? That always seems to cheer you up,” he reaches a hand up and runs it through Shiro’s soggy hair.

The touch sends anger bubbling through Shiro’s gut, but Matt doesn’t deserve that. So he turns it inwards, sucking up his reluctance and nodding, “Sure, okay.”

His voice comes out darker than intended, and Matt frowns, “Shiro, do you _actually_ want to be here right now?” 

“Yes,” Shiro says, his voice measured and his stance rigid.

Matt drops his hand and deepens his frown, “Uh-huh. I’m not buyin’ it. Do you need us to stop the shower? ‘Cause we can stop the shower.”

“Its fine,” Shiro insists, though the pressure building in his chest is telling him he wants to claw the skin off his body, “I want to be with you. You don’t deserve to be ignored all day.”

Matt squints, “Are you doing this because you feel guilty about needing space today?”

Shiro can’t quite formulate a response to that, but apparently his silence says enough.

“ _Takashi_ ,” Matt shuts off the shower and steps out of the tub, passing Shiro a towel before grabbing one for himself, “Don’t you _ever_ do that again.”

Something sparks in Shiro’s head and he swings his elbow at the shower wall, hard enough to send an assortment of soap bottles clattering to the ground. He squeezes his eyes shut and clutches the towel so hard that his fingers ache.

“Takashi?” Matt’s apologetic voice barely registers over the pounding in Shiro’s head, “Hey. Can you put your towel on for me?”

Shiro hears the request but can’t quite figure out how to get there from where he’s at now.

“C’mon, let’s take a few deep breaths together,” Matt’s distant voice is saying, “You ready?” Shiro can hear him take a deep, measured breath. Just like they’d learned together all those years ago. He releases it and takes another one. And another. It takes five breaths before Shiro finally joins in, and his first couple breaths are shallow compared to Matt’s. But eventually he matches his partner’s rhythm, relaxing his muscles a little with each breath.

After a while, Shiro opens his eyes, and Matt repeats, “Kashi, can you put your towel on for me?”

Shiro nods absently and sloppily wraps the towel around his waist. The motion feels almost robotic, like his body isn’t entirely his own. But vague relief washes across him now that he’s less exposed.

Matt smiles slightly, “There. That feel better? Little bit of privacy.”

Shiro gives a dizzying nod.

“Can I touch you?” Matt asks. His brow creases as he adds, “Tell the truth.”

Shiro realizes he doesn’t actually know the answer to that question, so he simply mutters, “Give me a few minutes.” Then he steps over the side of the tub and grabs his pajamas before making his way towards the bedroom to change in private.

Once he’s in his pajamas, he lays down on the bed and lets his head swim for a bit. In the quiet of the bedroom, he allows himself to float among the clouds until he’s ready to reenter the real world. Eventually, the fog clears enough for him to sit up and take a few more deep breaths before getting out of bed and heading for the door.

When he emerges from the bedroom, he finds Matt huddled in the corner of the couch with his phone in his hands and a worried look on his face. Without a word, Shiro makes his way over and curls up against Matt’s side, resting his head on his shoulder. Matt turns to kiss the top of his head, then returns his attention to his phone with a soft smile.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What do you mean overuse shower/bath scenes in my writing? *casually shoves ever-growing pile of shower scenes under the rug*
> 
> Also: Please remember that I write purely for fun and catharsis. My fics are unbeta’d and minimally proofread. They’re not perfect, and that’s okay. If you notice something I could fix or improve, please keep those thoughts to yourself. If I genuinely want critique, I’ll ask a close friend in private. **Surprise critiques are very stressful and discouraging.** Thanks for understanding!


	3. Cardinals [Shiro & Keith]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shiro arrives to help Keith move out of his dorm after he gets expelled from his first college. Keith is reluctant to accept the help.
> 
>  _So if you call me back or let me in,_  
>  I swear I'll never let you down again.  
> I know the devil you've been fighting with.  
> I swear I'll never let you down again.  
> \--Cardinals by The Wonder Years

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a request for the [75 Followers celebration](https://agapostemon.tumblr.com/post/159694241951/75-follower-ficlet-requests) I'm doing over on Tumblr, where people give me a character/relationship and either a song or a 5-7 word prompt. This request was "Broganes; Cardinals by The Wonder Years."
> 
> Category: Gen, T-rated  
> Content Warnings: Self-harm, cursing  
> Timeline: Takes immediately after Keith was expelled from his first college, shortly before [Cosmic Dust](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10174238)
> 
> Characters and Ages:  
> Shiro - 28  
> Keith - 19

> _Shiro (2:27pm): Hey buddy, I’m here._
> 
> _Shiro (2:27pm): Can you come down and let me in?_

Shiro hovers awkwardly outside Keith’s dorm building, glancing between his phone and the locked doors for signs of his brother.

After what seems like an eternity, his phone finally buzzes.

> **Keith (2:36pm): okay**

A couple minutes later, Keith appears at the doors and ushers Shiro in. He mutters “hey” and then beckons for Shiro to follow him up to his dorm room.

Keith has made no effort to disguise the partially-healed cuts littering his arms, and Shiro can see evidence of scabbed knuckles peeking out from under his fingerless gloves. There are bags under his eyes like he hasn’t slept in days. When they enter his dorm room, every surface is littered with an array of canned coffee and energy drink cans but no signs of actual food.

Honestly, it’s easy to see how the kid managed to get himself expelled. Shiro just wishes he’d reached out for help instead of letting things get to this point.

“Keith,” Shiro says as soon as they’re behind closed doors, reaching a gentle hand out towards his brother’s wrist, “Have you been putting antibiotic on these? I think I have some in my car if you—”

Keith parries his hand away with a feral look in his eyes, “Why did you come here to get me?”

Shiro blinks, surprised, “You’re my brother. Brothers bail each other out of shitty situations.”

“No I’m not!” Keith declares, “I’m just some kid you felt sorry for. You’re just a bleeding heart with a guilty conscience who thinks he can save me. Well, fuck off. Because you can’t. Go find someone else to save. You’re wasting your time.”

Shiro shrinks backward, “That’s not true, Keith, and you know it.”

Suddenly, Keith’s eyes widen, his face vulnerable, “I didn’t mean… It’s not because you… _Fuck_!” He swings a fist out and hits his bedframe in frustration, “Can you just go away before I fuck this up even more than I already have?”

Shiro straightens his stance and sets his jaw, “No.”

“Goddamnit, Shiro,” Keith snaps, “I’m not your fucking fix-it project!”

“You’re right. You’re not,” Shiro agrees, trying to keep his voice steady and hide the fact that he’s starting to shake, “But you are my brother. So how ‘bout we start loading this stuff into my car? Because it’s sure as hell not gonna fit on your motorcycle.”

Keith sucks air in through his teeth and clenches his fists. He looks like he’s trying to decide whether to cry, run or punch Shiro. Option A seems to have won, because a moment later he chokes on a sob and swipes a hand across his face as if Shiro might not notice he’s crying if he wipes away the evidence fast enough.

“Hey,” Shiro says softly, “Hey, it’s alright.”

“No, it’s not!” Keith hiccups, “I shouldn’t’ve said that to you.”

“No, maybe not,” admits Shiro, his chest clenching, “But that doesn’t change the fact that you’re my brother, and you’re in a shitty situation, and I want to help.”

“Why?” Keith asks, his voice cracking.

Something tells Shiro that repeating ‘because you’re my brother’ won’t be a persuasive enough argument for Keith, so he pauses to think of something that might ease his brother’s fears. Ultimately, though, he can’t think of anything. So he settles for the truth, “I’m not sure what answer you’re looking for, kiddo, but I don’t think I have it. I just care about you a lot and like having you around. I hope that’s enough for you.”

Keith frowns thoughtfully, then takes a ragged breath, “You’re stubborn.”

Shiro lets out a weary puff of laughter, “It’s a big brother thing.”

Keith gives him a lopsided almost-smile and crosses his arms, “Nah. I think it’s just a Shiro thing.”

Shiro matches his brother’s stance and expression, “You know what else is a Shiro thing?”

“What?” Keith squints.

“Getting home before midnight,” he says, forcing a tired smirk, “So can we start packing up the car, now? We can continue this conversation on the seven-and-a-half-hour drive home, if we must.”

Keith’s eyes flicker around the room, then back to Shiro. He shrugs, looking halfway between defeated and relieved, “Fine.”

“Thanks kiddo,” Shiro reaches out to clap a hand on his brother’s shoulder, then glances at the mess surrounding them, “You got any boxes? Trash bags?”

“Uh…” Keith makes a face, “Nope.”

Shiro scrubs a hand over his face, “Okay. That’s… fine. We can work with that.”

Keith snorts and bumps his shoulder against Shiro’s as he walks past to get to his laundry hamper, “Sibling bonding.”

“Yeah,” Shiro says, his face instantly melting into a relieved smile as he watches his brother dump dirty clothes all over the floor and begin filling his hamper with empty cans, “Sibling bonding.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that I write purely for fun and catharsis. My fics are unbeta’d and minimally proofread. They’re not perfect, and that’s okay. If you notice something I could fix or improve, please keep those thoughts to yourself. If I genuinely want critique, I’ll ask a close friend in private. **Surprise critiques are very stressful and discouraging.** Thanks for understanding!


	4. Speedy Garbage [Broganes + Matt]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Whoa, slow down there Anakin,” says Shiro, bracing himself against his seat.
> 
> “Who’s Anakin?” asks Keith, looking perplexed.
> 
> Shiro and Matt exchange a horrified look.
> 
> “You know,” Shiro says, “Anakin ‘I hate mindfulness but I love mindfully flying speeders the opposite direction of traffic’ Skywalker?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Star Wars Day! Matt and Shiro freaking love Star Wars in this AU, in case you haven't noticed. [_Someone_](http://archiveofourown.org/users/yet_intrepid) has been giving me a crash course in Star Wars over the past few weeks, and we've come to the conclusion that Keith is simultaneously Anakin Skywalker and Han Solo. (A couple bits of dialogue in this are, in fact, basically quotes from my Star Wars marathons with Brooke.) So here is a fic about Shiro and Matt introducing Keith to Star Wars.
> 
> Category: Gen, G-rated  
> Content Warnings: Reckless driving  
> Timeline: Takes place a couple months after Keith was expelled from his first college, shortly after [Cosmic Dust](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10174238)
> 
> Characters and Ages:  
> Shiro - 28  
> Allura - 28  
> Matt - 26  
> Keith - 19

“I can’t believe you talked me into supervising a bunch of children this weekend,” says Keith through gritted teeth as he weaves through rush-hour traffic in Shiro’s black station wagon. Somehow Shiro had managed to rope Keith and Matt into helping him chaperone a middle school engineering camp for the weekend. Keith is unsure whether his brother had ulterior motives or if he just couldn’t find enough real chaperones. Either way, he’s already regretting agreeing to this.

Matt laughs from the back seat, “I know, right? You practically _are_ a children!”

“Am not!” Keith defends, pressing down on the gas, “I’ve been legally an adult for more than a year.”

“It’ll be good for you,” says Shiro from the passenger seat, “You’ve barely gotten out of the house since you came home from CalTech. Honestly, when was the last time you interacted with someone other than me and the Holts?”

Keith ignores the question, more focused on the sudden realization that he missed his turn. Without a second thought, he whips across the median in the world’s fastest and least legal u-turn.

“Whoa, slow down there Anakin,” says Shiro, bracing himself against his seat.

“Who’s Anakin?” asks Keith, looking perplexed.

Shiro and Matt exchange a horrified look.

“You know,” Shiro says, “Anakin ‘I hate mindfulness but I love mindfully flying speeders the opposite direction of traffic’ Skywalker?”

“Is this another pop culture reference?” Keith’s brow creases.

“You’ve been skimping on your brotherly duties, Shiro,” Matt accuses, “How does this kid not know Star Wars?”

“Oh! Star Wars? I’ve seen Star Wars,” says Keith.

Shiro raises an eyebrow, “You’ve seen Star Wars, but you don’t know who Anakin Skywalker is? Which episodes did you watch?”

Keith shrugs, “I dunno, I wasn’t really paying attention.”

“You didn’t _pay attention_ to Star Wars?” Matt gasps, appalled.

“I didn’t pay attention to much of anything in that house,” Keith says, “I was probably doing my homework or something while my foster siblings watched.”

“That’s it,” Matt says definitively, “Star Wars marathon in the dorms tonight. It’s official.”

Shiro snorts, “We have to be awake at 7am to start getting registration tables ready tomorrow. I’m all for a Star Wars marathon, but I’m sure it can wait until next weekend.”

“Nope,” Matt shakes his head, “This is urgent. Can we at least watch Episodes I and II so Keith understands that he’s literally Anakin Skywalker?”

“Okay, fine,” Shiro concedes, “But should we start with the prequels or the original trilogy? Do we want him to meet Anakin first or Han?”

“Oh, good point,” Matt says thoughtfully, “Okay, let’s start with Episodes IV and V. Then we can watch in our usual order, _and_ we can introduce Keith to speedy garbage.”

“Speedy garbage?” Keith turns to raise an eyebrow at Matt.

“Han Solo’s ship,” Shiro explains, “The Millennium Falcon. It’s speedy garbage. You’ll see.”

“You’ll like Han,” Matt says confidently.

“Oh!” Shiro exclaims, “Hey, if we’re watching the original trilogy, we have to invite Allura over to our room. She’s got the biggest crush on Leia.”

“Uh huh,” Matt says, cocking an eyebrow, “And _you_ have the biggest crush on _Allura_.”

“Oh my god, Matt,” Shiro groans, “For the last time, I do not.”

Keith just rolls his eyes and swerves into the campus parking lot, squealing to a stop as he reaches a parking spot. “We’re here,” he announces blandly.

“Star Wars time!” Matt cheers.

Shiro lets out a puff of laughter, “Alright, alright. Let’s get our room set up and find Allura. Then we can introduce Keith to the most important work of fiction ever created.”

\----------

The rest of the weekend consists mostly of Keith wandering around like an over-caffeinated zombie and quoting Han Solo to a flock of delighted preteens.

“We’ve created monster,” Shiro whispers to Matt during a lull in the chaos.

“I know, right?” Matt agrees with a toothy grin before taking a gulp of his fifth cup of coffee.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Please remember that I write purely for fun and catharsis. My fics are unbeta’d and minimally proofread. They’re not perfect, and that’s okay. If you notice something I could fix or improve, please keep those thoughts to yourself. If I genuinely want critique, I’ll ask a close friend in private. **Surprise critiques are very stressful and discouraging.** Thanks for understanding!


	5. Walk Under Ladders [Slav & Matt]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Sorry,” Matt mutters sullenly. He stoops to pick up the papers and holds them out to Slav, who’s now moved onto flattening out Matt’s crumpled timesheet.
> 
> “Quite alright, it is an easy fix,” Slav assures, though the way he’s still meticulously smoothing the creases out of Matt’s timesheet indicates that it’s anything but easy. Once the paper is flattened to his likings, he gently returns it to its rightful home and shifts his gaze to Matt, who’s still awkwardly holding out a handful of stray timesheets. He takes them and proceeds to smooth out the parts rumpled by his student’s hands before carefully placing them on top of the stack.
> 
> Finally, once his desk is once again in order, he looks back up at Matt and quirks an eyebrow, “Is something the matter? This behavior is out of the ordinary for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [Vanja](http://archiveofourown.org/users/procellous) requested "Slav and Matt bonding over Brain Things" and... I feel it. I feel it so much. So here is a follow-up to [Keep Bending Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10513389/chapters/23595408).
> 
> Category: M/M (for background pairing), T-rated  
> Relationships: Matt & Slav, background Matt/Shiro  
> Content Warnings: Mature language  
> Timeline: Takes place literally the day after [Keep Bending Me](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10513389/chapters/23595408)
> 
> Characters and Ages:  
> Slav - 54  
> Shiro - 30  
> Matt - 28

Slav can tell something is amiss the moment Matt shuffles into his office and unceremoniously stuffs his completed timesheet into his advisor’s desktop organizer, then reaches up and snatches a fresh one from the next shelf up. A few papers flutter to the floor from the reckless force.

Slav knows he should ask his student if everything is alright, quick before he turns and leaves, but… Ya Allah, those papers! He sighs in resignation and reaches out to straighten the disarrayed stack.

“Sorry,” Matt mutters sullenly. He stoops to pick up the papers and holds them out to Slav, who’s now moved onto flattening out Matt’s crumpled timesheet.

“Quite alright, it is an easy fix,” Slav assures, though the way he’s still meticulously smoothing the creases out of Matt’s timesheet indicates that it’s anything but easy. Once the paper is flattened to his likings, he gently returns it to its rightful home and shifts his gaze to Matt, who’s still awkwardly holding out a handful of stray timesheets. He takes them and proceeds to smooth out the parts rumpled by his student’s hands before carefully placing them on top of the stack.

Finally, once his desk is once again in order, he looks back up at Matt and quirks an eyebrow, “Is something the matter? This behavior is out of the ordinary for you.”

“It’s nothing,” Matt insists, though he continues to hoover by Slav’s desk like he wants to talk.

“You are a terrible liar,” Slav responds with a sly smile.

Matt sighs and begins to pace, “It’s just… Shiro. D’you ever have those moments where your brain needs the exact opposite of what someone else needs? Like some kind of incompatible brain clusterfuck?”

Slav lets out a snort of laughter, “Have you forgotten who you’re talking to? That is practically my entire existence.”

“Oh,” Matt stops pacing and frowns at Slav.

“I get used to it,” Slav shrugs. Which is true. But being used to it doesn’t necessarily make it less painful—just less surprising. That might not be what Matt needs to hear, though, so instead Slav shifts the focus back to his student, “What happened with Shiro? If your relationship is in strife, I have developed a list of alternate places for you to stay, ranked by safety and comfort.”

“Oh, it’s nothing like that,” Matt laughs, relaxing a bit, “Should I be concerned that my boss is so prepared for the demise of my relationship?”

“It never hurts to be prepared,” Slav retorts with a smug grin. He notes that Matt is once again pacing around the room. He takes a measured breath. He’s used to Matt’s pacing. No need to get anxious over this. Still, he eyes him warily.

“Fair enough,” Matt shrugs, “Anyways, we’re not fighting or anything. He just… didn’t stop me when I accidentally hurt him, and I feel like crap? I mean, not actually hurt him. More like overstepped a boundary. But anyways, I guess we were both having shitty days? And I really needed to be with him, but what he really needed was some space. Like… how dumb is it that we were both having a bad time, but we needed the exact opposite things? Amazing! Spectacular! Aren’t brains just _great_?”

Matt is gesticulating wildly as he speaks, and Slav can’t help but flinch whenever he nears the bookshelves. He keeps calm by counting under his breath to the rhythm of his student’s footsteps.

“Seriously,” Matt continues, apparently heedless of Slav’s plight, “Where can I get a refund on this brain?”

“I wish that I knew the answer to that, myself,” Slav says, “Though I suppose if we returned the bad parts, we would have to return the good parts as well. We wouldn’t want that, now, would we?” He gives his right temple a knowing tap.

Matt sighs and flops down in the chair across from Slav’s desk, looking defeated, “There’s just no winning, is there?”

“Depends,” Slav challenges.

“On what?”

“On your definition of winning,” Slav responds. Then, with a cheeky smile, he adds, “Aaand on which reality you inhabit.”

“In _this_ reality!” Matt laughs.

“Well then, that depends entirely on your definition of winning in this reality,” Slav explains matter-of-factly.

“Huh. Guess I’ll have to rethink my definition of winning, then,” muses Matt, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Slav nods, “Unfortunately, that is easier said than done.”

“No kidd—ACK!” Matt practically leaps out of his chair when he’s interrupted by the call to prayer blaring out of Slav’s phone.

“We’re going to have to cut this meeting short,” says Slav after the adhan runs its course, “It’s time for me to pray and you to do your job.”

“Holy heck, what time _is_ it?!” Matt asks, pulling out his phone to check, “Oh shit, I’m like ten minutes late for my office hours. Time to go wrangle some undergrads. Have fun praying! Wait, those are not the correct words. Uh, have a nice afternoon!” He waves and dashes out of the room.

Slav chuckles and waves goodbye before positioning himself on his prayer rug and taking a deep breath. He makes a mental note to include his student in his du’as. Matt may be an anxiety-provoking whirlwind much of the time, but Slav has a lot of fondness for him and his family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Vocabulary time! There are multiple concepts in Islam that translate roughly to "prayer," so in case the last bit of this fic confused you, here's a quick explanation based on my experience (complete with some bonus AU Slav facts):
> 
>  **Salat =** super structured prayers that happen 5 times a day at set times (Slav adheres pretty strictly to this schedule, but not all Muslims do)  
>  **Du'a (aka supplication) =** slightly more freeform prayers; closer to what most Christians think of when they hear the word "prayer"; happens automatically at the end of salat, but you can also make du'a at random times throughout the day (Slav's approach to making du'a is very formulaic, but that's not true of everyone -- Allura switches things up according to her mood, and Shay treats it more like an opportunity to have a casual chat with God)  
>  **Dhikr (aka remembrance) =** repeating words or phrases (such as the names of God) a set number of times; can count the repetitions on prayer beads (tasbih); optional body movements/breathing exercises (Slav does this at every given opportunity because it helps his anxiety)
> 
> On an unrelated note: Please remember that I write purely for fun and catharsis. My fics are unbeta’d and minimally proofread. They’re not perfect, and that’s okay. If you notice something I could fix or improve, please keep those thoughts to yourself. If I genuinely want critique, I’ll ask a close friend in private. **Surprise critiques are very stressful and discouraging.** Thanks for understanding!


End file.
